


Lo Fi Jelly Beats to Fall in Love to

by TheShinySword



Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort after a panic attack, DJ AU, Everyone is DJs except Kanon, Everything I know about DJs I learned from After Hours and Tonkatsu DJ Agetarou, F/F, Hina cameos to cause trouble, Lo Fi Chill Beats To Have a Panic Attack To, side poly ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShinySword/pseuds/TheShinySword
Summary: DJ AUKanon just wanted to meet up with Chisato, but she's two hours late to a six hour show, her friend is no where to be found and she just can't stop watching that pink bear on the stage.
Relationships: Aoba Moca/Seta Kaoru, Aoba Moca/Seta Kaoru/Shirasagi Chisato, Aoba Moca/Shirasagi Chisato, Matsubara Kanon/Okusawa Misaki, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Seta Kaoru/Shirasagi Chisato
Comments: 12
Kudos: 114





	Lo Fi Jelly Beats to Fall in Love to

**Author's Note:**

> I never would have written this if it weren't for DivineNoodles' influence. I never thought I'd like this pairing, let alone love it. Congrats on almost a year of Bearing the Weight of Happiness. 
> 
> CW: Panic Attack (Fairly low key Panic Attack but head's up)
> 
> Recommended listening: your favorite lo fi chill beats station.

Saturday nights are a bottomless pit of anxiety for Kanon Matsubara. College graduation robbed her of the many useful excuses for why she spends every weekend alone in her apartment watching the first Netflix reccomends instead of going out and doing whatever it is that people in their early twenties are supposed to do. Most nights she wishes for any excuse to dissuade the unending sense that she is wasting her life staring at the walls of her bedroom.

She misses those walls so much now.

When Chisato Shirasagi—former child actress, former idol and current layabout—asked Kanon to come meet her new girlfriend, she instantly replied yes. Maybe not exactly instantly. Maybe there were three hours of hemming and hawing between the asking and the answer but the yes came eventually!

Unfortunately, Kanon had never been very good with directions. Logic and basic mathematics promised that when picking between right and left there was at least a fifty percent chance of guessing correctly and yet Kanon got herself lost one hundred percent of the time. She tries not to be so hard on herself for it but she always fails.

So she’s two hours late (one hour spent gathering her courage, one spent the wrong way on the train) with nothing to show for it but a series of texts so kind they make her heart hurt. “If you can’t make it, it’s alright.” “I just want to make sure you’re okay?” “I’ll come by tomorrow, everything’s fine Kanon, I’m not mad at you. I promise” She wants to respond but Kanon’s cell service has more holes than coverage and every reply she tries to type remains unsent. But still she makes her way down there to a club that looks too cool to let her in but accepts her cover charge anyway.

It’s not Kanon’s first time in a club but it might as well be. Chisato tried with her in college, when they were just new roommates and not yet best friends, but she lasted all of five minutes before the noise and the crowd let the panic seep in. It was a good memory though, Chisato talked her down so gently. In Kanon’s experience panic attacks drive most people away but the ones who stay are the best sort. She’s not particularly interested in testing that theory out tonight.

The club is just big enough to get lost in, so of course she is and of course her phone doesn’t work here either, why would it? Why would anything ever go Kanon’s way the one night she tries to do the thing she’s supposed to want to do? She misses her bed. She hates how much time she spends in it but now she wants nothing more than to curl up and watch the jellyfish float up and down on her phone. And she wants to go home and—

And there’s a bear on the stage standing behind the deck.

Not a real bear (unless real bears come in highlighter pink now) but someone in full body mascot suit with enough bells and whistles to put a certain mouseland to shame. The pink bear is dressed in a yellow hoodie with special accommodation for her ears poking out the top and bright blue shorts so big Kanon could probably fit in just the leg. Under her hood pokes out the brim of a snap back embroidered with the phrase “Bad Bear”. Maybe it’s the bear’s name? Maybe she’s the titular bad bear? The glittering gold and diamond encrusted (fake on both accounts Kanon hopes) chain around the bear’s neck puts an end to that thought. ‘DJ Michelle’ thumps against the bears chest as she jumps up and down, so in time to the music that the thudding of her stubby fake bear feet becomes part of the beat of this club mix of some song Kanon half remembers from the radio.

Purple and blue spotlights sweep over Michelle as she raises her hand high, hand sized index fingers pointing. “Michelle loves you all!”

“We love Michelle!” The crowd roars back.

womp womp womp womp womp.

womp womp womp womp womp.

There is not a natural instrument in this song. Kanon studied enough drum in that one summer—she thought pounding something regularly might calm her down, it didn’t—to know when two measures have been stretched to their limits. It’s really not her sort of music, Kanon’s always like nice soft songs with lots of feelings and nature imagery. This is the musical equivalent of a body roll.

But the more she listens, the more her body moves. Her shoulders shrug up with the music, her hips swing just a little. Some teal haired girl that she’s pretty sure she knows from somewhere shoves a drink in her hands with a wink and some words Kanon can’t hear. Kanon “Wine Coolers and Mimosas” Matsubara pours it down her throat on an insane instinct inspired by the energy of the place. Then she spits half of it up on the woman in front of her because it is WAY too strong but the woman doesn’t notice so it’s fine.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She can’t find Chisato but it’s fine because Michelle is here.

The weirdest thought she’s ever hadhits Kanon like a full body tackle: she _loves_ Michelle. Not because Michelle is an adorable pink mascot or because she’s finally made Kanon understand the appeal of club music but because she’s up on the stage and Kanon’s down on the floor. With the crowd jumping around her shoulders Kanon feels down to the core of herself that she is supposed to devote herself the bear on that stage. In that moment, Michelle is as good a God as any.

Someone jostles Kanon and the split second she looks away is long enough for the set to end and DJ Michelle to disappear like she’s been a dream the whole time.

The anxiety and realization that she’s just downed a mysteriously potent alcoholic beverage of nebulous origins hit Kanon at the same time. The liquor doesn’t help her skyrocketing heartbeat or her empty grasping lungs. She wants to huddle onto the floor and just let her fight or flight instinct have at her but Panic Attack On the Dance Floor would make a poor hit single.

Kanon uses every last bit of strength she has to fight her way out of the crowd to the back of the room. It’s not that much better of a spot to freak out in but she can feel the panic attack coming the same way a deer can see a car down the highway before it hits. Kanon leans on the soundproofed wall, her nails digging into the hard foam so they don’t cut into her palms again. She’s so stupid, Kanon scolds herself, why did she come out? She wasted time she could have spent looking for Chisato watching some bear.

It’s here. She couldn’t breath with the anticipation before but now she breathes too much, too hard, in gulps like drinking choking amounts of water. She’s hyper ventilating and she knows it doesn’t help but she can’t see well enough to count things around her and she’s starting to forget her own name. Kanon… but Kanon what? What’s her birthday? She’s 22—no she’s 23.

Her exhales come out as squeaking noises and she knows people are starting to stare but she can’t make them stop. She can’t even pull away as someone reaches for her arm, tries to pull her up (when did she fall down?), tries to take her somewhere. But she doesn’t want to be taken. She doesn’t want to go anywhere with anyone.

“Watch it buddy. She’s clearly not okay.”

The painful grip around her wrist vanishes.  
“Just trying to help.”

Something like a hand rests with gentle firmness on Kanon’s shoulder, “Help elsewhere. Michelle’s got this.”

Kanon can only crane her head back to gaze into the mirrored sunglasses of the pink bear and let out a belabored: “Fuueeeeeeee…” before she passes out in the plush arms of the divine DJ.

* * *

Kanon comes to staring at a flickering light fixture from an almost comfortable couch. The panic sets back in with the realization that she Does Not Know Where She Is. She can’t get a good look at the room, all black painted bricks and some folding tables and a woman approaching her with open palms. Kanon doesn’t know her, doesn’t have any idea who this woman is with shoulder length black hair half stuck to her neck with sweat and waist length green hoodie and her grey eyes.

Kanon fixes on her eyes.

Some jellies have colors, brilliant pigments of blues and purples and all sorts of magnificent hues. But this woman’s eyes are like a translucent jellyfish, taking on every shade and color into their grey nothingness and reflecting it in brilliant splendor. Kanon can see her own pale face reflected back at her. It’s almost calming, like she’s back in the aquarium she loves so much.

It’s been a long time since Kanon’s made so much eye contact.

“Matsubara-san?”

Sound comes back to the world. Matsubara-san is her name. Something’s being pressed into Kanon’s hand. Her wallet. Kanon takes it with shaking fingers and turns away her eyes. The worst is passing but she still feels weak and vulnerable. She swallows dryly, “K-Kanon.” Words are hard to form but her own name passes from her lips.

“Kanon-san then.” The womandoesn’t quite smile but the way her lips settle is still kind and comforting like she’s trying to calm a frightened animal, “My name is Misaki Okusawa. You fainted on the floor so I brought you back here.” Her fingers tug at the small hairs at the back of her neck, “But now that I say that out loud I realize I probably should have called an ambulance. Ah jeez. I’m sorry, I can call someone to come get you.”

“N-no it’s fine,” Kanon squeaks, her need to not inconvenience this nice person outweighing her logic. “It happens… sometimes—”all the time “—I just need to rest a little.”

Misaki nods, “Okay, take all the time you need.” She walks away from the couch and settles in a folding chair in front of a laptop.

Kanon tries to catch her breath but she pulls her knees into her chest instead. It only makes it harder to breath but the tightness in her thighs is comforting. She is Kanon Matsubara, she reminds herself, age 23. The reminding helps center herself back in her body a little. She does videography and social for her favorite aquarium. She loves jellyfish more than anything except her family and Chisato and—

“Kanon-san,” Misaki calls out in a voice too high to be low and low to be high. “Would you might if I ran through my set a little?”

Kanon manages to nod. She’s really not in the mood for more club music but she’s already taken so much of this nice person’s time.

Misaki clicks a few keys on her laptop and a bass drum loop crackles out of the speakers. The sound is so low it’s almost like a recording of the reverb on a subwoofer—felt more in the body than heard in the head. It’s not what Kanon expected, not after the show on the floor. She settles back against the painted brick wall.

A snare loop joins in, a few loose beats and a louder clap. There’s a layer of a sort of melody and something like a bell but the star is the beat pulsing in and out like… Kanon closes her eyes and lets the sound fill the empty spaces in her mind. The image comes to her at once.

A sea nettle, a pacific ocean jellyfish, lazing through its tank. The scrunch and pulse of its pink-orange body as is propels through the water, it’s lacy tendrils trailing behind in the exact rhythm of the song in Kanon’s ears.If she had the nerve to pull out her phone she could pick out the exact video to match this song from the nearly a hundred recordings she’d made.

Kanon’s breathing eases. The second song has a rippling flit to it like a moon jellyfish puffing out her dress like bell and squeezing it in to push forward. The third tinkles like the playful wiggling tentacles of a spotted jelly. Misaki’s fourth song adds a little mystery like a crystal jelly with her bioluminescent blue-green glow. Kanon sees two vibing through their tanks in her minds’ eye. She lets her knees fall away from her chest.

Misaki’s groove is the opposite of Michelle’s. Where Michelle spiked Kanon’s adrenaline, Misaki lays Kanon down slowly until she’s floating on the ocean away from anyone who could ever hurt her, ever judge her.

“What do you think of my Lo Fi Beats to Have a Panic Attack to?”

“E-excuse me?” Kanon’s eyes open, confused and wide.

“Sorry, that’s what this playlist is called,” Misaki hurriedly flips her computer around and points at the title. “Promise I wasn’t making fun of you.” She fidgets with the beanie she jammed on somewhere between songs, tugging it up and down to the beat, “I get ‘em too. Not much anymore but that’s why I started doing,” she motions to the laptop, “this stuff.”

“Does it help?”

“Yeah. It’s… soothing? Thought it might help you too,” Her hand falls away from the hat. “Probably should have just offered you a Xanax or something though. Sorry, Kanon-san.”

Kanon lets go of her knees, allowing her legs to fall back to the floor. “N-no. I feel… um… better. D-definitely better. Thank you, Okusawa-san.”

“Misaki, please.”

“M-Misaki-san. It’s really nice. It makes me think of…” Kanon shakes the confession out of her mind. It would be weird to tell someone she just met that her music sounds like jellyfish, “never mind.”

“It’s just a side project,” Misaki yawns. The dark bags under her eyes stand out. Kanon wonders if they’re part of the DJ ensemble as much as large sweatshirts and big headphones are. “The Michelle stuff is my focus. This is just for me.”

“The Michelle stuff?” Kanon feels the remembered sensation of a pair of plush arms around her shoulders. “Are you her… composer?”

Misaki’s lips twitch up at a joke Kanon didn’t know she was telling. “Kanon-san. I am Michelle.” She jerks her head to the corner where the ever smiling bear’s discarded head lies, peeking out from under a tarp.

“Oh!” The connection comes quick. Though it’s difficult to marry the lithe frame of the woman in front of her to the bear on the stage. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“It’s not really a secret,” Misaki shrugs. “I mean, I keep telling people and they never believe me anyway.”

“They don’t believe you—”

The door bursts open so hard it swings open it’s full 180 degree rotation and slams the wall.

“Kanon!” Chisato Shirasagi lunges through the doorway in an outfit she absolutely would not have been allowed to wear if she was still an idol. Her old producers would have had words about the barely covered red marks around her collarbone too but their opinions don’t matter any more. “Kanon, are you alright?”

She’s flanked by an otherwise mismatched pair in matching floral button downs designed like attempts at classy Hawaiian shirts. On the left is a sleepy eyed woman with messy silver hair and a self satisfied grin, on the right a woman made entirely of long, towering lines and a purple pony tail hastily thrown back together. But Kanon has little time to consider them before Chisato is in front of her waiting just long enough for Kanon’s small nod of permission before throwing her arms around Kanon’s neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Chisato breaths deeply into Kanon’s nape. “I thought you weren’t answering because— it doesn’t matter. I absolutely apologize.”

“Chisato-chan… it’s okay,” Kanon giggles softly. Chisato’s presence eases out the last remnants of her anxiety for now. “I should probably get a new phone plan.”

“I will _get_ you a new phone plan,” Chisato squeezes Kanon one last time before relinquishing her.

“How did you find me?”

“Hina told me she saw you on the floor, so I asked around.”

“She did!” Kanon remembers Hina Hikawa—fellow formal idol—with teal hair and bright eyes and apparently a very high tolerance in alcohol.

“Yo~ Mii-kun~,” The shorter of the two strangers drawls at Misaki, leaning on the doorframe. “Heard you found this sleeping princess? Did you give her a little smooch to wake her up?”

“Moca,” Chisato hisses with a silencing glare before Misaki can speak.

“Anyone would be tempted to kiss such a lovely kitten. O-of course,” The tall woman stumbles and stutters as Chisato’s glare turns and focuses on her, “only with her express consent. Which would be difficult to obtain in her state of somnolence so perhaps kissing is ill advised.”

“T-Thank you… I think?” Kanon says, confused.

“Kanon, I should introduce you to my…” The next word seems to cause Chisato physical pain, “girlfriends.”

Kanon is sure she misheard. Chisato has never had a girlfriend as long as Kanon has known her. She’s had a long procession of attractive someones or others throughout college but never anyone she wanted Kanon to meet. And certainly not plural. “Your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend _s_.”

Moca, Kanon assumes, interrupts, “girlfriends? So old fashioned.”

“Fair enough.” Chisato nods, “But what should I call you Moca, just a _friend_.”

“Sweetheart, darling, _l_ _over,_ ” Moca adds a suggestive eyebrow wiggle at the last word.

The lanky woman at the doorway can’t help but chime in, “Dear Chisato, I don’t care what you call us as long as you call us yours.”

“No.” Chisato rolls her eyes. “Kanon, this Moca Aoba and that is Kaoru Seta,” Moca waves and Kaoru bows. “They are the _people_ I’m seeing for a reason that currently escapes me.”

Moca winks, “Kaoru-san has long fingers and Moca-chan is plucky!”

“Chisato-chan,” Kanon’s mind is spinning. Whatever makes Chisato happy makes her happy but the night has been a lot, “you’re dating both of them?”

“Unfortunately,” Chisato sighs.

“It is quite the cosmopolitan affair,” Kaoru twirls through the room, taking Moca and Chisato’s hands in her own, “As the french say: Mange a Trough.”

“Not quite~ not quite~ Kaoru-san but it’ll do,” Moca presses a kiss to the back of Kaoru’s hand before strolling beside Misaki and grinning too close to the tired DJ. “Mii-kun~ you didn’t answer. Did you save Kanon-san?”

“Michelle did,” Misaki mutters, her eyes flicking to Kaoru.

Moca laughs like this is the funniest joke she’s ever heard. “Guess she left early, thank her for Moca-chan okay?”

Kaoru wipes mist from her eyes, “Michelle is truly the best of us. I hope you got to enjoy her music Kanon-chan. Even if you did miss a marvelous set from Aoba-san and myself.”

“Kaoru-san took off her pants!”

“As did you, my dear companion.”

“Yeah but that’s like a baseline for our shows now.”

Chisato watches them banter with rare fondness in her eyes. Any lingering weirdness in Kanon’s mind vanishes at her best friend’s happiness. She resolves to get to know them.

Kanon summons her limited bravery. “A-are you two DJs too?”

Moca’s playful grin turns to Kanon. “Moca-chan and Kaoru-san are more performance artists. Our work is experiential and experimental~.”

“They’re DJs,” Misaki corrects, shooting Kanon an apologetic glance as if she had something to be sorry for.

“O-oh I see. You perform together?” Kanon imagines what the pair must look like on stage: like an otter and a sea lion.

Moca collapses on the couch beside Kanon. Kanon is comfortably squished between Moca and Chisato. “Moca-chan used to perform with some old friends but they had to leave the scene for things like ‘full time jobs’ and ‘graduate school’~ So sad, so tragic. But Kaoru-san adopted little ol Moca-chan and now everyday is sunshine bright. The Hello Happy Collective is an orphanage for little lost DJs.”

“H-hello H-happy… what?”

Kaoru claps her hands together. “The Hello Happy Collective will bring smiles to the world through the power of the beat and the bass!”

“It’s just the name of our group, Kanon-san,” Misaki says punctuated by an exhausted chuckle.

“Non non, Mii-kun,” Moca waggles her finger at Misaki, “The Hello Happy Collective is a way of life. It’s a way of love. Led by none other than the one, the only—”

“Mi~sa~ki~!” Suddenly, the sun somersaults through the open door.Orange Venus tumbles close behind. She lands just behind Misaki and throws her arms around the DJ’s shoulders, golden hair mixing with black as she hugs Misaki to half-hearted protests. She’s a young woman, probably the same age as Kanon, but it almost hurts to look at her directly, so radiant her smile and joy are. Plus she’s attached most of a disco ball to a head piece and it reflects the light directly into the eyes of anyone looking too hard. Still, Kanon feels the same divine magnetism she felt watching Michelle radiating off this woman too.

“Kokoro,” Misaki grumbles with affection, “how did your show go?”

“Amazing! The whole audience was one big smile by the end! Right Hagumi?”

The second ball of energy, Hagumi, smiles broadly and sweetly at Kokoro. “Kokoron was incredible!”

“Hagumi was incredible!”

“I’m sure you both were incredible,” Misaki quickly cuts off what was surely gearing up to be a never ending series of ‘incredibles!’

“Hmm?” The light of the sun is suddenly pointed entirely at Kanon and she has to look away. “Oh! I don’t know you! I’m Kokoro!”

Kanon speaks to Kokoro while looking mostly at Chisato beside her. “I-I’m Kanon?”

“Are you?”

“Y-yes?”

“Amazing! What a lovely name! Kanon!” Kokoro repeats her name a few times like she’s trying it out. High, low, with three extra Os. “It sounds like music!”

“Kokoro-chan,” Chisato chides in the most motherly voice she can manage, “please don’t crowd her. She’s not feeling well.”

Kokoro shifts millimeters back, “Well that’s not fun! You should feel better! Then I could see your smile! I bet it’s wonderful!”

“Kokoro…” Misaki catches Kanon’s eyes quick enough to look apologetic.

“T-thank you. I do. Misaki-san helped me.”

Misaki reddens in the background as Kokoro’s smile somehow grows. “Sounds like Misaki! She’s really good at taking care of things and planning things and cooking things and—”

“Jeez, Kokoro that’s enough!” Any more praise and Misaki will turn to ash. “Hagumi, do you have my USB? I’m about to go up.”

Hagumi pulls a tiny pink bear shaped usb drive from her pocket and plops it in Misaki’s outstretched hand. “Here’s your American Bees!”

“My… oh. Thanks Hagumi.” Misaki plugs the drive into her laptop.

“So Kanon!” Kokoro falls into Moca’s lap, though Moca doesn’t seem to mind, cheerfully wrapping her arms around the sunshine blonde with a hum. “What makes you smile?”

“Eh?!”

“Kanon works for the aquarium,” Chisato replies for Kanon. Chisato already knows how to speak Kokoro’s language. “She’s an excellent photographer and videographer.”

“C-Chisato-chan.”

Chisato shrugs with a teasing giggle, “It’s true.”

“Damnit!”

Their attention swings to Misaki loud cursing as Hagumi hovers at her shoulders. Misaki sighs, hand running down her face with her exhale. Kanon recognizes a calming technique when she sees one. “Hagumi. Did you eject the drive before you pulled it out of the computer?”

“Umm… umm… it’s not a CD? S-so?”

Kanon can see Misaki counting to ten in her head before she speaks again. “Okay, okay. You didn’t mean to wipe the only copy of my visualizer.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Hagumi’s worry weighs heavily around all of them in the moment before Misaki answers.

The bags around Misaki’s eyes deepen but she doesn’t let it drag down to her voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”

“What’s a visualizer?” Kanon whispers to Moca.

Moca leans around Kokoro’s wiggling wormy torso to whisper back. “It’s the visuals that play during the music, some people don’t care what they use but Mii-kun’s real particular~.”

It clicks in Kanon’s head. “Like the jellyfish…”

“Jellyfish!” Kokoro’s head ducks in front of Moca’s, “That sounds interesting! Tell me more!”

Kokoro’s eyes are the same golden color as her hair and it’s a little disconcerting but she seems so genuine and nice that Kanon wants to tell her everything she’s ever thought. Even the very silly thoughts no one would ever want to hear. “M-Misaki-san’s music makes me think… of jellyfish. L-like this…”

Kanon takes her phone out of her pocket as Chisato watches with wide eyes. Kanon’s expression turns sheepish but Chisato softly pats her knee in support and Kanon turns back to Kokoro. She picks a video from her many, many options and turns around the phone: Moon jellies pink on epipelagic blue.

Kokoro watches attentively for three seconds, which Kanon suspects is an enthralled amount of time for Kokoro, before bouncing off Moca’s lap with Kanon’s phone and into Misaki’s face. “Misaki! Kanon solved your problem!”

“Kokoro! I’m busy—oh, those are pretty good.” Misaki turns to Kanon, “You took this?”  
“Y-yeah… I like to watch them at lunch…”

“Do you have more? Different speeds maybe?” Misaki’s trying to hide it but Kanon can see the gears in her head turning as the withheld anger fades from her eyes.

“I have a lot!” The confidence in her voice shocks Kanon but if it’s about jellyfish she can stay focused. “Your music has the same beats as specific jellyfish… to me.”

Misaki looks Kanon straight in the eyes and for the first time in a long time Kanon doesn’t feel uncomfortable meeting someone’s gaze. “They’re perfect.”

Kokoro cuts in with the biggest smile before Kanon has time to be embarrassed. “How lucky! Kanon, you’re an amazing person!”

“T-thank you?”

“I can’t wait to see what your visuals look like! You and Misaki will make something really special on stage together!”

“W-wait on stage?”

“Kokoro!”

“Kokoro-chan.”

Misaki and Chisato protest at the same time. Chisato defers to Misaki’s Kokoro handling experience.

“You can’t ask people you just met to go perform on stage.”

“But that’s how I met Michelle!”

“Yeah it is,” Misaki sighs. Misaki sighs a lot. Every inflection has a different meaning and Kanon thinks she’d like to learn them all. “But we can’t ask Kanon-san to help out. I’ll just mix and play videos.”

“Okay~ Okay~ You’ve begged long enough,” Moca stands up with a wobble and bows. “Moca-chan will help out. No idea how videos work but Moca-chan can figure it out.”

“Please, allow me!” Kaoru insists with a flourish. “For Misaki I shall perform an interpretive dance to accompany!”

“Moca-chan withdraws her offer because she wants to see that.”

Hagumi raises her hand. “I-I messed it up! So I’ll help you out Mii-kun!”

“Seriously, I’ll just do it mysel—”

“I want to help!” Kanon is standing before she knows she’s moved. All eyes are turned to her, which is the last thing she wants but it keeps happening so she’s going to have to go with it. “Please. Let me do it.”

* * *

“Fuuueeeee,” Kanon lets out a long squeaking whimper as she struggles over the video visualizing software she’s volunteered to run. Her bravery always runs out at the worst possible moment. At least she isn’t _on_ stage after all. She is just barely off it, positioned so she can see Misaki at her turntables without drawing the eyes of the crowd her way.

So at least no one will see as she makes a complete fool of herself. The software is a little like the video editing software Kanon uses for work but the layout is totally different and no matter how many times the nice bespectacled woman—who’s name fled Kanon’s brain as soon as it entered— explained it (three times) Kanon can barely remember how to do more than press play.

Kanon glances over her shoulder to the wings of backstage where Chisato and her girlfriends send their encouragement: A wave, a wink and a bow. Then she looks back to the stage where Misaki catches her eye as she finishes setting up and smiles. Misaki has a really nice smile, the kind of smile Kanon really, really wants to see over and over again. She kind of gets why Kokoro cares so much about smiles when her heart warms up when when Misaki smiles at her.

She’ll try her best, even if it’s not enough.

Misaki nods and her music begins with the same bass loop. The sea nettle song. Kanon zips through her synced library and presses play.

Nothing happens.

No good, no good. What is she supposed to do again? The video’s playing on the laptop but not on the projector. Kanon scans the screen for the missing piece (or the missing button) before she finally sees the word “preview” underneath the little window playing her file. She can barely remember her own name but there’s a button labeled ‘take’ near the preview and it can’t hurt to try so she presses it.

The projections flickers to life, a little greener than on Kanon’s screen but visible to all. A comfy hum emerges from the crowd.

Misaki bobs on stage with a slow, deliberate motion. One hand presses her headphones to her ear. It should be cliché but she makes look so natural. The other rests on her deck, fingers flicking through a hundred different faders and switches to turn the song Kanon heard earlier into something new and magical with layers and rhythms surrounding that core bassy beat.

The song is a lot longer than the video but Kanon’s confidence begins to bloom. She figures out how to loop the video and then how to trim out just the best part and loop that slow jelly pulse: in and out and in and out. It’s easy to fall right into the groove and match Misaki’s mellow movements nod for nod.

Kanon peeks at the audience as she syncs in the moon jellies with Misaki’s crossfade. She has no idea what time it is but it’s probably so late it’s actually early. The audience is ready to be cradled and carried off. At any other performance their dazed and dozing looks wouldbe offensive but Misaki’s beats are an intentional lullaby to slow them down and send them home.

Misaki’s not the same as Michelle but she’s got a power of her own too. There’s an itching thought as the back of Kanon’s head that she could listen to Misaki for a very long time and never want to stop. But for once she doesn’t let the thought loop around her, over her and through her. Kanon’s too focused on the beat, there’s no room in her head for her worries. They’ll come back later but right now she’s got Lo Fi Jelly Beats and a midnight groove.

Even if it’s actually four in the morning.

* * *

Misaki insists Kanon does not have to help them strike the club. She’s very insistent (adorably insistent, Kanon idly thinks) that Kanon did her a favor and does not have to help pack up the records and decks and tables and countless cables and cords and other odds and ends that go into a show. But Chisato’s not leaving yet and Kokoro keeps handing her things and Kanon doesn’t want the night to end anyway so she finds herself next to Misaki coiling cables anyway. Or at least trying to coil, the nice glasses girl returns to correct her form twice.

It’s been a really long time since Kanon felt like part of a group. It’s a good feeling, she thinks as she looks over the others. Moca and Kaoru playfully show off how many boxes (very few) they can each carry for Chisato who sits and watches with an affection she doesn’t have to hide. Kokoro and Hagumi sprint from from end of the room to the other with thing after thing and it’s really not clear that they’re helping but they’re trying and that’s half the battle.

And then there’s Misaki with her blue and black headphones still around her neck and her hair poking out of her beanie leading the clean up and fixing everything the others keep messing up. They’re messy, they’re goofy, and Kanon really, really does not get club music. But Kanon still wants to be part of it.

She knows it’s a futile wish but she wishes it anyway.

It’s just past 5 when they finish packing everything that’s theirs into heavy black plastic cases. Misaki’s are the biggest, Michelle’s head and body are stuffed into a case that makes it look like she’s smuggling a body out the door on her back. She’s struggling so hard trying to roll a case toothat she can’t even stop Kanon from taking it from her and rolling it along and into the emerging daylight. The weight pulls comfortably on Kanon’s arm.

When they’re outside Kanon realizes she’s never really seen a sunrise. Not like this: framed by the city like a modern stone henge at the very end of a sacred magic rite. The pale pink of the new morning sun looks more like a moon jellyfish than the moon ever has. She feels so very warm. Kanon stops rolling as the other walk on down the middle of the empty morning streets. The others are framed in the morning glow. It makes a perfect picture, so she snaps one. The first picture she’s taken of people in a very long time.

“Kanon-san?”

And then the magic’s over. Or maybe it’s just beginning. She runs to catch up.

They’re all half asleep on their feet. Even Kokoro leans a little heavier on the side she’s wrapped around Hagumi. Blond and orange hair mix together as they barely keep each other standing.

Moca has koalaed herself onto Kaoru’s back, half carried and half dragged down the street with Chisato close at their side. Kanon catches fragments of their cozy conversation.

“Chi~Sa~To~ let’s go to your mansion~.”

“I live in an apartment Moca.”

“Kaoru-san~ you have a big house~ let Moca-chan crash there.”

“But we’re,” Kaoru pauses to catch her breath, “closest to your home aren’t we?”

“Moca-chan has a twin bed byt we can princess and the pea it~.”

“Absolutely not,” Chisato says with playful irritation and affected exhaustion. “You can come to my place.”

“Yay~.”

Chisato catches Kanon’s eye and smiles. Nothing ever goes as expected. Most of the time that thought sends Kanon to the floor but right now a little bit surprise can be managed.

“Um… Kanon-san?”

Kanon turns to Misaki beside her. Without noticing, their footstepshave fallen into a matching beat.

“Aw jeez. I don’t know how to say this.”Misaki pulls on the back of her grey beanie. The front rises up. Her forehead peeks out with a single worry line framed by her bangs creasing the smooth skin.. “It was nice to… to mix with you. I’m sure you’re busy but… but if you…” She shakes her head, “n-nevermind.”

“Misaki-san?”

“Kanon!” Before Kanon can process what Misaki might be asking a pair of suddenly reenergized arms swing around her shoulders. Kokoro shouts directly into her ear, “You’re amazing! Normally Misaki’s set puts me right to sleep with a smile on my face but with your videos I fell asleep with an even BIGGER smile on my face, and that’s just better!”

“T-thank you Kokoro-san?” Kanon tries to relax her instinctively tense shoulders.

“And the next show will be even BETTER!”

“N-next show?” Hope thumps in Kanon’s chest.

“You’re part of the team now!” Kokoro kisses Kanon’s cheek quickly before bouncing off between the others.

“Kokoro!” Misaki gawks with a slack jaw.

“Yay~ Next show~” Moca yawns. “This time Kaoru’s gonna expose it all.”

“Expose it all.” Kaoru considers the idea with a clueless smile. “It is like that, isn’t it?”

Chisato squeezes her partner’s hand a little tighter. “Kaoru. You know you don’t have to.”

“If Aoba-san expect it, I can hardly let her down.”

“Kanon should work with Michelle too!” Kokoro spins to face the group, skipping backwards. “I think they’d really get along!”

“Slow down!” Misaki stops them all with the volume of her voice. “Kanon-san hasn’t even agreed to join us!”

Kanon speaks like she’s not sure what she heard. “J-join you?”

“Yeah,” The grey deep sea jellyfish in Misaki’s eyes shine. She’s nervous about asking, as nervous as Kanon is answering. “Do you want to do it again...with me?”

But the answer is so easy. “O-of course I do!”

No one knows if it’s early morning or late night and no one really cares. The best things always happen in the easily forgotten hours. Kanon’s glad she left her room to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> May all you have friends who inspire you to try new things. 
> 
> I'm on twitter @theshinysword (18+ only please).


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